


Il Ritorno

by starrdust411



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Western, Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Disability, Drama, Imprisonment, Love Confessions, M/M, Reunions, Skywalker Family Drama, Strained Friendships, Strained Relationships, Western
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-06 18:27:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15891576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starrdust411/pseuds/starrdust411
Summary: Han was back and that was what mattered. He was with them again and away from Jabba and his chain gang. He was safe, they were safe (for now), and that should have been enough to put Luke at ease.(Cowboy/Spaghetti Western AU)





	Il Ritorno

**Author's Note:**

> I've recently developed a fondness for Spaghettie Westerns and wanted to play with the idea of a Star Wars/Western fusion. (Western Wars if you will.) 
> 
> This story is set in an alternate universe that doesn't necessarily take place in OUR Old West. So the rebellion and the rebels being referred to are not and have NOTHING TO DO WITH the US Civil War. Just want to make that very clear before anyone gets unfortunate ideas.

The air was surprisingly still for so late at night, the wind having died down and never seeming to pick-up again. It didn’t stop the biting chill from gnawing into his skin the way it always did. Not that Luke was one bit surprised. Blistering heat or biting cold were all he had ever known, a natural occurrence in the heart of the desert, but even still it wasn’t really a welcomed feeling. 

His booted feet made faint tracks along the packed in sand below as Luke searched for something to occupy his time and eat up the energy that had filled his insides. The sun had slipped away hours ago leaving only the moon and the stars to light the world, but as bright as they could be their light wasn’t nearly enough to allow for an impromptu target practice (although today was yet another example of how much work his aim still needed) and if the dim firelight coming from the stables were any indication, then Chewie was already busy tending to the horses, leaving one less chore for Luke. That left only the cabin which was the very last place Luke wanted to set foot.

The doctor had left around sunset after giving Han a good look over and a clean bill of health. (There had been no discussion or hesitance about letting the old man go, because they already knew from experience that he could be trusted, although Luke was certain each of them felt their own kind of guilt at having to drag him into their cause once more.) Luke had made himself scares before then, busying himself by fiddling with his revolver, checking their ammo, tending to his horse, or just staring off into the distance.

Han was back and that was what mattered. He was with them again and away from Jabba and his chain gang. He was safe, they were safe (for now), and that should have been enough to put Luke at ease.

There was nothing to see down below, the ground looking like a smooth expanse of dark blue nothingness, yet Luke found his eyes sinking downward and staring pointedly at his boots. He sighed and kicked at the earth, hoping to disrupt the calm, but it did nothing except scatter sand that seemed to find a way to disappear from his sight almost instantly.

There were so many things he wanted to say to Han, questions to ask, apologizes to offer, and time to re-gather, but he knew without a doubt that whatever he said or did, the moment he went to see Han their conversation would inevitably turn to a direction he didn’t want. 

Luke touched his left hand to his right arm and the space just below his elbow where just a year ago the rest of him had once been. He still remembered the day they had chopped his forearm off. The lower half of the limb was a total loss after his accident and the doctor had said the only way to save him from the poison coursing through his veins would be to cut it like a dead branch on a tree. Luke remembered the sound of bones crunching in his ears while Lando and Chewie held him down as the doctor sawed into him, carving him like a roast bird.

Leia had been there too of course, even though they had tried to talk her out of it. The doctor had said it wasn’t right for a lady to witness something so horrible, but Leia wasn’t the sort of lady to turn away from bloodshed or abandon a friend in need. So she had stayed and held Luke’s good hand and did her best to keep him calm and focused on something other than the pain.

It had all happened months ago, but the memories were still fresh. There were some days Luke would reach for things with his right arm expecting his hand to still be there or feel a weight just below his elbow even if there was nothing but an ugly scar and the rolled up sleeve of his shirt to be seen. 

Luke sighed and raised his head just as the sounds of footsteps reached his ears. He turned towards the house and spotted Leia’s slight figure making its way in his direction. Even in the near darkness of night, Luke could tell that she had traded in her hoopskirts and petticoats for a pair of oversized jeans and a shirt that had seen better days. Luke grinned in spite of himself at the wool shawl draped across her shoulders. She had been roughing it with them for months, but still wasn’t quite used to the chill of the desert at night. 

“I knew I’d find you out here,” Leia said as she came to his side and carefully wrapped her arm around his waist. She was too short to properly place the shawl around him, but she held him close in order for them to share its bit of warmth. “You never did have enough sense in your head to come inside when it came time.”

Her tone was sharp as ever, but even in the moonlight Luke could make out the smile gracing her lips. He smiled back, warmed more by her presence than the wool and pushed back the knot of guilt her touch left inside of him. “I know. I’m just… thinkin’.”

“You’ve been out here 'thinking' for hours,” she countered. “There’s only a bit of supper left and I don’t think I’ll be able to keep Chewie away from your portion if he beats you to it.”

He chuckled and gently detangled himself from her arms. “Thanks, but I reckon I’m not all that hungry.”

Luke didn’t have to look Leia’s way to feel the concern radiating off of her or know that there was a pointed frown aimed at his side. “Luke,” she began, but he stopped her before she could finish the thought.

“I’m not ready to face him, Leia,” he sighed. “Not yet.”

“He’s not going anywhere,” Leia reminded him. Her small hand found its way to his left elbow, delicate fingers gripping him just hard enough to gain his attention. “And neither are you.”

The guilt tightened inside of him, her not so subtle message coming across quite clearly. There were so many things he needed to say to Leia as well, but those things were far more complicated than a missing arm. “I wasn’t planning to,” he lied and it was clear from the tight set of her lips that Leia knew it. 

“He was asking about you earlier,” she told him. “It’s only right that you at least go see him for a moment.”

“He should be resting.”

“And so should you,” Leia countered, “but here we are.”

Luke huffed out a soft laugh as Leia lead him back towards the house. He should have known better than to argue with a politician.

The inside of the cabin was still by the time Leia had dragged him back. Lando and the others had long since turned in for the night, too exhausted to even discuss who would take the first watch. Not that Luke could blame them. It was obvious from the shotgun that Leia grabbed the second they stepped back inside that she had taken it upon herself to keep guard for the night.

Stepping lightly across the worn wooden floors, Luke went over to the kitchen where he tucked into the bread and bowl of stew that had been set aside for him just as Chewie made his way back from the stables. Chewie spared a quick look of disappointment at his own portion, no doubt hoping for something more, only to receive a chiding look from Leia as a silent reminded that he got what he got. 

Luke tore off a piece of his bread and offered the other half to Chewie. The larger man dismissed him at first, waving off the half roll and pushing it back towards Luke, but Luke silently insisted. He dropped the roll onto Chewie’s tray, making it clear as daylight that there would be no further discussion. Chewie smiled in thanks and continued to eat.

“How’s Falcon?” Luke asked softly, mindful of the others sleeping in the adjacent room. 

The house was little more than a rundown cottage, the upstairs only holding two tiny rooms with just enough space for a single bunk in each. Han was in one of the bunks and Leia, being the only lady amongst them, was always given the other. The rest of them slept downstairs wherever they could find space or out in the stables if it was that sort of night. It wasn’t the best accommodations, but as rebels on the run from the law they couldn’t really ask for much.

Chewie made a gesture that Luke guessed meant that Han’s mare was doing well and Luke smiled in response. 

Learning to understand Chewie had been difficult without Han around to interpret him, but they had all been forced to adapt. As a child Chewie had lost his tongue thanks to Vader and his men, which meant that verbal communication was not an option. Lando understood him the best of course, but there were times when even he was at a loss as to what a specific gesture or grunt could mean. There were a few instances when Chewie would get angry at them for seemingly no reason and Luke now understood that it was just out of frustration. Luke supposed that was why Chewie had grown so attached to him after the accident that had taken his arm, since they were both in somewhat similar situations.

Luke had just finished the last of his stew when Chewie tapped his shoulder and pointed towards the ceiling. Luke felt his chest tighten. “Yeah, Leia told me to go see him,” Luke whispered, sending a quick glance towards the front porch where Leia was currently sitting with her shotgun in her lap. “Have you… checked on him?”

Chewie gave a nod, his face stony. It was a stupid question, because Luke already knew that Chewie had been beside himself when Han had gone missing. Now that he was back they would be inseparable again and a small part of Luke was sad at the realization that the friendship that had developed between him and Chewie would be diminished now that Han had returned.

“How is he?”

The look on Chewie’s face was somewhere between sad and hopeful and Luke took that to mean that Han would be fine in time. Again Chewie’s large hand fell onto Luke’s shoulder as he nodded towards the second floor once more and Luke knew right away that he wouldn’t be able to continue avoiding Han for long.

“I guess I’ll check in on him come morning,” he offered with a reluctant sigh as he stood and stepped back from the table. “After all, someone needs to take the next shift after Leia.”

Chewie shook his head and pointed towards his own chest.

“C’mon Chewie, you’re exhausted,” Luke insisted, but he could already tell by the stubborn set of the large man’s jaw that Chewie wouldn’t be backing down. “Fine, have it your way, but if you start nodding off, come wake me.”

Chewie grunted and waved him off as Luke made his way from the kitchen and out towards the stables. There wasn’t much room to be found out in the front of the cottage, every last inch of relatively soft or flat space was already occupied by a warm, sleeping body and Luke wasn’t in much of a mood to be near anyone. He grabbed one of the spare coats from a hook on the wall before heading out the door and into the night. 

He passed Leia on his way out, the sour look on her face a clear indication of her disappointment, but he offered her a quick kiss to the cheek in apology before heading off. Somehow the night air had managed to grow colder during the time he had spent inside chatting with Chewie, but it wasn’t nearly cold enough to turn him off to the idea of camping out with the horses. 

The smell of wet hay and soggy oats hit his nose the second he pushed the wooden door open with his elbow. The horses were all fast asleep, the sound of a periodic snort or the slap of hair against thick flanks the only indication that they were even there. Luke stepped lightly over grime and hay, making his way towards the rear of the stable and to the pen in the far back. He knew right away that it was vacant, but he still gave the hay a few quick nudges with the tip of his boot to make sure there was nothing lurking beneath the unkempt stack. Once he was satisfied, he draped his spare coat against the ground and set himself down on top of its fabric.

Darkness filled the stable, slivers of moonlight barely making their way through the cracks in the wooden fencing. The bare smell of horse filled his lungs as straw scrapped against his neck and hair. In the seclusion of the stable he touched a hand to the folded sleeve at the base of his stump and allowed himself to think of Vader and the last time they had met. 

He could still hear the shot ringing out in his ears. It should have been like white noise to him by now, gunfire being such a common presence in his life after years away from the farm, but he had never heard the noise a bullet made when it met bone before and to hear the shot fire, feel the hot lead breaking through skin and crushing bone, and knowing that his fingers would never work again… It hadn’t been Vader’s shot that had cost him his hand that day, but leaving him to rot in that snake pit certainly hadn’t done Luke any good.

As always Vader’s features had been hard to gleam beneath the brim of his hat and the kerchief he wore tied around his mouth and tucked up beyond the bridge of his nose, but past it all Luke swore he could see something close to sorrow through the gleaming lenses covering his eyes, something that pulled him in because there was a sameness that shouldn’t have been there, yet was all the same.

“Father,” Luke whispered, the word feeling so strange on his tongue now that it had been tied to Vader of all people.

*

Waking before sunrise was nothing new from Luke. Back on Uncle Owen’s farm, they would begin the day before the rooster had a chance to crow in order to get a jump start on the day’s chores. It was always painful to think now that all those years of toil and effort had been for nothing, that everything his aunt and uncle had worked for had amounted to nothing more than a pile of ash and a barren farm no one would ever set foot on again.

The sky was still a deep blue with just the faintest hint of orange when he shook the straw from his hair and set out to find his saddle. The call of the plain was already echoing in his ears, a voice telling him to wander and seek answers. Everything had been so hectic and confusing since he had lost his hand, but Han’s return was a sign that they were growing stable again, that it was time to kick off the dust of the camp and finish what he had started out in the desert with old Yoda. The old seer would have answers for him, Luke knew it in his gut, but telling that to his friends would likely lead to chiding and confusion.

_I’ll give it another day,_ Luke told himself as he roused in order to fill Wing’s feed bag. _I owe them that much._

The Rebels were due to move out soon anyway. The little stunt with breaking up a chain gang and freeing one of the hands would no doubt bring attention and the law sniffing their way sooner rather than later. Luke reasoned he could use the move as an excuse to see Yoda again and find out what the old man knew, if anything, about his father and what finding his sister meant for his destiny.

“Destiny’s just a fancy word for dreaming,” Han had told him once, but Luke couldn’t believe that, not after everything that old Ben had shown him. Luke had known right from the beginning that he was meant to be more than just another hand on his uncle’s farm and day by day he was proven right.

The horses were starting to wake up around him and Luke decided to do his fair share by shoveling oats in all of their feedbags. Not that there were many horses to be fed. They had far more men then horses, which in many ways was more important, but it made moving about all the more tedious. Of course there was always Wing and Falcon, the two being a constant presence and sometimes Luke regretted riding off with Wing since the horse had grown attached to the old mare over the years.

The stable door creaked open and Luke had to stop himself from jerking in surprise at the sudden intrusion. Somehow sunlight had managed to crawl further up into the sky, spilling in from the opened door and washing the floors and pens in its faint golden light. He looked up to see Han pushing his way inside, their eyes locking in a way that told Luke that his friend had been expecting to see him there.

Luke frowned down at himself and the space where his right hand should have been. He wasn’t ready for this, hadn’t prepared himself to be seen so suddenly, but Han was here now and there was no backing out of this.

“Surprised to see you up so early,” Luke said by way of greeting as he fought to maintain a calm, neutral demeanor.

The sound of booted feet making their way across gritty floorboards was his first greeting as Han took his time moving about the stable. In the dim light Luke could make out little more than Han’s silhouette as it maneuvered between the wooden beams surrounding the pens, his movements slow and deliberate as he searched the stable for his sliver and white mare. He found Falcon in the stall next to Wing’s. It had been Luke’s idea to keep the two horses close. He liked to believe they comforted each other, communicating at night when the world was still and at its most confusing.

Han was close to him now, but his gaze never wandered in Luke’s direction. His eyes were focused solely on his mare as he jerked the door to her pen open and stepped inside. Falcon had seen Han’s approach and was whinnying and beating her hoofs in a clear display of joy. Luke watched from his position beside his own steed as Falcon gave her long neck a good toss, smoke gray hairs flinging back before she took a half trot over to Han who gently grabbed her face tenderly in his hands and began to stroke her nose.

“Jus’ wanted to get up early to see my ole girl,” Han answered. It was hard to tell if his voice was purposely low or if the harshness in his tone was more of a sign that he was still recovering from all that had happened. Yet Luke tried not to think too much about the answer as he focused his eyes instead on watching the way Han’s hands steadily ran up and down Falcon’s long face. “It’s okay girl,” Han whispered to her. “I’m back now.”

Now that Han was closer, Luke could see that he had removed the scraggly beard and was clean shaven again. He wondered if Han had managed to gather the energy to do the job himself or if he had broken down and allowed someone to help him. Without the facial hair it was easier to see the gaunt hollows of his cheeks and the tendons poking against the skin of his neck. His slightly longer hair was now washed and combed back and there was a fresh set of clothes on his back, helping Han to look closer to his old self.

“She missed you something terrible,” Luke told him, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips as he found his own fingers lying tenderly against Wing’s warm neck. “But Chewie took good care of her while you were gone.”

“Course he did,” Han snorted and Falcon responded to the noise by nudging him playfully with the butt of her nose. He laughed and gave her neck a few good pats. “Only other person who knows how to care for Falcon is Chewie.”

“You know, she hasn’t been out for a proper ride in some time,” he grinned. “Think you’re up for taking her out for a bit?”

Han gave a short huff of a laugh at the suggestion. “Kid, all I’ve been thinkin’ about is saddlin’ up again.”

“Well after Wing here finishes his breakfast, we’ll join you.”

Luke caught the way Han’s hand went stiff against Falcon even if his friend had done his best to cover up the awkwardness of the gesture. It was a small slip up, but it was just enough to tell Luke that Han knew even if he had yet to take a good look at him. 

“I don’t know if that’ll be such a good idea,” Han said and Luke instantly felt the air in the stable grow tense against his friend’s good intentions.

Stepping out from behind Wing’s shadow Luke walked over to the gap in the stalls where Han would be able to get a good look at his right arm. Just as he anticipated Han’s gaze shifted lower and away, his eyes consciously not looking. “Who told you?” Luke asked sternly. “Chewie or Leia?”

“Neither,” Han admitted in a low voice that had just a touch of remorse. “It was Lando actually. Said you lost it in a shoot-out with Vader.”

The name made his chest go tense, a sharp phantom pain spreading from the spot where his right hand should have been and straight up into his shoulders. He frowned, but pushed it away. It wasn’t Lando’s place to tell Han, but Luke should have been bolder and made the accident known from the beginning instead of hiding like a child so he forced himself not to think poorly on the other man. 

“That’s… only part of the story,” he confessed. “But… you don’t have to worry about it. It’s been some time and I’m used to it now. I can still shoot straight and ride as good as ever. You saw for yourself, didn’t you?”

“I saw, but I didn’t believe it. Didn’t want to.” Han frowned and gave his head a solemn shake. “Can’t believe they let you ride out like that. You coulda been killed.”

“Ridin’ out there was my idea,” Luke told him defensively. “And I did it to save you.”

“I wasn’t worth savin’ if it meant you dyin’.”

Already the morning heat was starting to creep into the stables and the other horses began snorting and shifting as the daylight stirred them from their sleep. Yet in that moment Luke felt himself filled with the kind of heat only found in the dead of afternoon when the sun was hanging straight over head and frying you like an egg on a stove top. He knew without question that Han’s comment had been made without malice, but the fact that his friend had looked him in the eye and judged him as weak still stung like a fresh burn. 

Luke frowned down at his feet, the straw and dirt mingling on his boots as he focused his mind on pushing the burning anger down, remembering Yoda’s warnings against anger and its deceptive trappings. “You’re alive and you’re here. I have no regrets.”

Han stepped closer, one hand still lingering on Falcon as his other hand gripped the worn wooden bars separating them. A sliver of light illuminated his face, highlighting the deep sun roasted tan that had kissed his skin and the heavy black bags that would likely cling to his eyes for weeks if not longer. “I’m grateful for what you done for me,” Han whispered “and you can be can sure I’ll pay back what I owe…”

“You don’t owe me a thing,” Luke told him, but he knew already that Han still had more to say.

“…but I’ll be damned if I can just sit back an’ watch you pull some reckless shit like that again.”

In spite of himself Luke found his lips twitch with the makings of a smile. He shook his head. “You don’t need to worry about me. I can take care of myself.”

Han didn’t budge at first, he lingered by the divide as if grasping for something to say before at last coming up empty handed. Yet Luke didn’t wait for him to think of something, instead busying himself by grabbing a brush and smoothing down Wing’s coat. It was one of the easiest tasks to accomplish with only one hand. Grabbing a saddle and bridle and mounting a horse was something he needed some support to accomplish and after this conversation the thought of asking Han for help just didn’t seem like a good idea.

It didn’t take long for Han to get the hint. Luke’s eyes were trained on the fine hairs on Wing’s flanks, but he caught the sound of Han’s booted feet thumping softly away from him. Spurs rustled and the pen’s gate creaked as it swung open. Luke spared the briefest glance in his direction to see that Han had already managed to climb onto Falcon as effortlessly as if he hadn’t spent the better part of a year being worked day in and out to the brink of exhaustion. 

Their eyes connected for half a moment and Luke caught the edge of an apology in Han’s gaze before he forced himself to look away. “I’ll see ya on the trail kid,” Han called out before taking off out the stable and towards the rising sun.

*

Morning was fully upon the land by the time Luke was able to get himself mounted with a little help from Chewie. The other man had come to the stables to check on Han and the horses, not the least bit surprised when Luke told him that Han had set off on Falcon for a morning ride. Luke had invited Chewie to join them naturally, but his friend’s thoughts were centered solely on breakfast and he declined almost instantly. 

The morning sun was blissfully warm and offered his skin a tender caress as he rode across the beaten path towards the plains. There wasn’t another town or farm to be found for miles and their band of rebels were able to shoot and ride freely without fear of being seen. Not that they would have the luxury for long. Luke was certain that Leia was already drawing up plans on where to head next. 

Being on the run was miles away from sitting stuck on a half dead farm and a selfish part of Luke both loved and hated this outlaw life he had been drawn into. Yet on mornings like this, when the air was calm and the sun was bright and there was nothing to do except ride, he found his mind drifting so far away that even his missing hand couldn’t bring him down to earth.

His solitude came to an end fairly quickly when he and Wing caught up with Han and Falcon on the path. The other man was sitting calmly astride Falcon, his posture still and quiet as he watched the sun finish its climb up from the horizon and into the waiting clouds. Luke couldn’t help regard the man’s tranquil disposition as odd, even though he understood it. Having been robbed of his freedom for so long there must have been a good many things Han had begun to realize he had taken for granted over the years and was finding new appreciation in them. 

A part of him was remiss to disturb the scene, but he already knew that Wing had trotted too far and was now close enough to easily be noticed. Leaving would raise questions and seem even more disrespectful than staying to intrude so Luke gave his stallion’s sides a slight nudge and guided him forward. Not that Wing needed to be directed. He always seemed to have a mind to be near Falcon whenever he was able. 

Han turned and spared him a quick glance, his face somewhat impassive as his eyes returned quickly to the spot on the horizon where he had been staring. The land was awash in the brilliant golden glow of early morning, the day still fresh and fairly new and Luke got the distinct feeling that Han would have been more than content to just sit and wait with Falcon until the sky was dark with twinkling stars again.

“How many times did you fall before you got good at riding like that?” Han asked and Luke did his best not to frown too deeply.

“A good few,” he admitted. There was no sense in hiding. It would be impossible for anyone to lose a hand and be up and around as if nothing had changed. He knew that good and well now. “Couldn’t shoot worth a damn either for the first few weeks, but I just kept on practicing.”

“Yeah, I bet you did.”

It was surprisingly difficult to tell if Han were impressed or frustrated by that fact, but as he sat astride Wing holding the warm leather reigns in his remaining hand Luke told himself it didn’t matter. In another few months he would be able to mount and ride without any help at all and when that time came he would seek out Vader again. The ghost of his right hand itched with the desire to grab his gun and take aim and Luke recognized instantly that he needed to seek out Yoda sooner rather than later. Sitting and waiting with this fire burning inside of him would do no one much good and unless he aimed to lose something more valuable than a hand he would have to consult with the seer and have this anger soothed away.

“So where does it all go from here?”

It was a question that Luke had asked himself several times now and one that he undoubtedly knew the answer to: forward. Yet Han wasn’t asking about that, he was likely asking about the Rebellion and where they stood with the cause. Luke shrugged and guided Wing to trot closer until he and Han were side by side on their respective rides. 

“The war’s not over, not by a long shot,” he told him plainly, “but you’ve given more for the cause than anyone could ever ask for. If you feel it’s time to pack it in, there’s no one around that would blame you for it.”

Han’s jaw clenched, his calm features twisting into a frown that was more frustrated than thoughtful as he shifted in his saddle. “I think that goes double for you, kid.”

“Me?”

“I lost twelve months and you lost five fingers. I think we’ve both given up plenty.” Han turned to him, his gaze steady and even as he stared with brown eyes that seemed to have aged ten decades in just one year. “I think it’s time for both of us to pack it in.”

Luke shook his head, because leaving was the furthest thing from his mind. Shamed as he was to admit it, this had become more to him than just a rebellion, the cause overshadowed by a mystery that he needed to unravel. He couldn’t tell Han that, not when he needed to tell Leia first, but a simple “no” wasn’t likely to satisfy the other man either. “I can’t go Han,” he told him. “I’m too far in.”

“You said it yourself, there’s no shame in leaving.” Han’s hand left his saddle and reached over to Luke, clamping him in place in like a spike nailing him straight into the ground. “Where I was, there wasn’t much time to do any real thinking, they left us so bone tired from working out in the sun all day that come night all I could do was rest. But when I could I thought about this. Say the word and we’ll go, you and me.”

The confusion was like a blanket smothering him, obscuring everything except the two of them. The horses, the sunrise, and even the plains seemed to disappear under the intensity of Han’s stare. Luke blinked down at the hand still resting on his shoulder and the touch that seemed heavy with something other than its own weight. His heart was hammering and in that moment he hated Han, because if his friend had offered him this just months ago – before the shot, before he had seen the sameness in Vader’s eyes, and the mystery that consumed everything around it – Luke would have jumped out of his saddle to take what was being offered. But now there was too much pulling him away and he couldn’t even begin to allow his mind to wander in this unknown direction. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t,” he said, soft and resigned. “I have my reasons for staying and I know it may not be what you want to hear, but I can’t tell you what they are right now.”

The hurt was clear in Han’s gaze even as his face remained in the same somber expression from just moments ago. He gave a distant nod and slowly pulled his hand away. The lack of touch left an oddly cool spot on Luke’s side and he found his gaze flickering down to watch Han’s fingers curl into balls before lifting his eyes to settle back on his friend’s face.

“I… understand,” Han whispered. “Then that settles it. I’ll stay, too.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I can’t let you get hurt like that again,” he said with a shake of his head. “There ain’t no fighting it kid, I’m with you whether you like it or not.”

Han gave the straps of Falcon’s reins a slight tug, his heels pressing into the mare’s sides as he turned her back in the direction of the cabin. It would have been simple to just let it all be and have the conversation drop, but Luke couldn’t bring himself to do it. 

He guided Wing into a steady trot, the two of them easily catching up to Han and Falcon. His right arm lifted in an unconscious attempt to grab Han and Luke was glad that Han’s gaze had been diverted and missed the awkward gesture. 

“Han,” Luke began wearily. His friend stopped to look at him and after a moment’s hesitation, Luke decided to dismount, landing heavily on the dried grass beneath them. It was a surprisingly steady landing, but climbing back on would be difficult and Luke was just grateful that Han recognized what he was doing and followed suit, dismounting from Falcon and stepping towards him. “We’re gonna be heading out soon,” he began again. “Maybe not today or tomorrow, but soon we’ll be packing up and leaving. I’m sure Leia’s back at the homestead plotting out just where to head next. I… I won’t be going with them though.”

Han’s frown deepened, confusion and annoyance flashing in his brown eyes. “You told me…”

“I know,” Luke cut in. “And I wasn’t playing you false. I plan to see this thing through ‘til the end, but… During my last shoot-out with Vader I lost my hand, but I walked away with a lot of questions I can’t answer on my own. I have to head back into the desert to talk to Yoda.”

Han snorted, kicking up a patch of dirt at Luke’s declaration. “What do you need to see that ole shaman for?”

“I think he knows more than he let on,” he explained. “I think he has answers for all these new questions.” It was clear from the look in his eyes that Han didn’t follow him, that he thought this whole plan seemed reckless and backwards, but Luke had expected as much. He sighed and took a step closer, grasping Han’s elbow tightly with his good hand. “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, days or maybe even a month, but I… I don’t want you staying on just for me.”

“It’s too late. My mind’s already made up.”

“Han,” he sighed, but found his next words swallowed up when Han stepped forward and pressed their lips together.

There was so much filling him in that moment. Confusion, regret, excitement, and frustration. He had wanted this from the moment he had laid eyes on Han, but now just wasn’t the time and Luke was glad that he had decided to dismount. Pushing Han away while holding his reigns would have been difficult, but with one hand and two feet planted firmly on the ground he was easily able to give the older man’s shoulder a firm shove.

“I can’t,” Luke told him in a voice that was already remarkably breathless. He could feel the pleasant tingle filling his lips even as he stared firm and determined into Han’s wounded eyes. “I can’t do that. Not now. I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Han told him, his voice already sounding a touch strained. “I shouldn’t’ve…” Han shifted as if to walk away, but after a moment he simply pulled his hands away and began running them against his thighs. “I should’ve told you sooner, but I couldn’t. I don’t wanna pressure you to do or feel one thing or another, but I already made up my mind months ago that I was gonna stick by you no matter what. I’m with you kid and that’s that.”

Luke’s heart felt heavy, pressed down into the blistering sand by Han’s declaration. If this had been a year ago he may have cried out or laughed at the irony of it all, but instead he just felt tired and worn down. His throat was tight when he found himself only able to offer Han a short nod in response to it all, because now just wasn’t the time.

Reluctant understanding seemed to fill Han’s gaze as his hands grew steady against his hips. He leaned back for a moment, hesitating, before at last reaching forward to grasp Luke’s good arm and give it a firm squeeze. 

There were a hundred things to be said, but neither of them had the words, so instead of speaking Han returned silently to Falcon’s saddle and rode off, leaving Luke alone in the desert to quietly reflect on everything.


End file.
